


designated

by Anonymous



Series: high speed railed [2]
Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: M/M, choo choo motherfuckers, implied praise kink, not literal cabinet sex, otp: wait that's my word, secretary mayor pete, smart street smut, sort-of roleplay, two hot nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28235814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A little fun on nomination nights never hurt anyone.
Relationships: Chasten Buttigieg/Pete Buttigieg
Series: high speed railed [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170407
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22
Collections: Anonymous





	designated

**Author's Note:**

> The first half-ish of this _was_ Chapter 3 of ['tis the season](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27735067) but it very quickly turned away from anything holiday-related and towards everything Secretary Mayor Pete-related, so I thought it might work better as a standalone. Blame Chastened for encouraging the sex puns, some of which are theirs, and the SoT tags. Merry early Christmas.

Chasten doesn’t pull rank often, because he knows Pete’s work is important, but there are only so many congratulatory calls, texts, and emails that one can put up with.

“Mr. Secretary?”

Pete’s fingers, typing away at his phone, freeze immediately.

“It’s almost time for your first training.”

He swallows, dry.

“The administration wants you to be well-prepared, for what’s to come.”

A sharp intake of breath.

“Are you ready to begin?”

Pete visibly steadies himself, sets his phone face down, and stands.

“Yes.”

Chasten smiles.

“Follow me, please.”

It has been both a blessing and a curse for the bedroom to be ten paces away from Pete’s office. Pete has nothing urgent to do just yet, not at this hour; tonight, it’s a blessing. Chasten opens the door for Pete to walk in first, watching as he tries not to fidget where he’s standing at the foot of their bed. 

Crossing the room until he’s just barely touching his chest to Pete’s back, Chasten whispers, “Turn around, Mr. Secretary.” Their noses brush as Pete does what he’s told. “Good.” Chasten leans in and kisses him, slowly and deeply, filthily licking into his mouth, tasting him. He doesn’t reach out to hold Pete, and Pete, ever attentive and obedient to Chasten’s movements, keeps his hands to himself. He’d prefer to hold Pete by the jaw and take him, but there’s a very specific way he wants tonight to play out.

Chasten pulls away and watches Pete catch himself from leaning forward to follow his lips. “So well-behaved.” He unzips his pants. “And so hard-working.” Pete falls to his knees, looking up expectantly. “I can tell you’re going to do a very good job.” As soon as Chasten nods his permission, Pete presses his mouth to Chasten’s underwear, keeping eye contact and testing Chasten’s self-control. When Pete looks at him like that, it takes everything in Chasten to not just fuck the timing he so carefully designed, to not shove Pete up against the wall and ravish him. He’s done it before. But tonight is for Pete.

“Being Secretary can involve very hands-on work. Can you demonstrate your proficiency in that regard?” Chasten is always amused at how hot Pete gets at the slightest touch of formality, how his eyes flutter with lust before refocusing. To be fair, Pete gets hot at anything Chasten does.

“Yes,” he replies, gently pulling Chasten’s boxers down and taking hold of his half-hard cock. Pete likes to touch when he gives handjobs, often moving one hand off Chasten’s dick to rub at his balls, his hips, his thighs. And he does, still jerking in long and short movements, still dragging his fingers along the length and thumbing the slit at the head. Chasten’s knees would give out if they hadn’t done this so many times.

Pete murmurs, “How am I doing?” and Chasten has to take a breath before responding to keep the waver out of his voice. 

“I’m quite impressed, Mr. Secretary. Are there any other ways you are able to be resourceful for the task at hand?” There’s the slightest twitch of Pete’s mouth, like he wants to laugh but knows better, and Chasten can’t help but smile. Humor fractures and gives way to ecstasy as Pete licks the underside of the head, teasing with his lips before taking Chasten in in earnest, stroking what he can’t fit into his mouth just yet. Chasten gives in a little and slides his fingers into Pete’s hair, applying just enough pressure to keep up with how fast Pete’s already relaxing to swallow his entire length. He can feel the little restrained but appreciative moans around his cock. Pete is always so good for him and he loves saying it.

His husband is a bit of a marvel, in a way. In just a few minutes, Pete’s managed to work his way forward until his lips are wrapped around the very base of Chasten’s dick, his nose in Chasten’s hair and his spit dribbling down Chasten’s balls. Chasten knows what Pete’s waiting for. He grabs Pete’s hair in a firm hold, pulls him almost all the way off, and pushes him back down. Finally, Pete lets out a deep and full groan at the forcefulness, vibrating pleasure from his throat around Chasten. He rests his free hand on Pete’s cheek before shoving him back and forth along his cock and thrusting shallowly the way Pete likes it. 

He doesn’t want to come like this. Pete has no strong feelings about Chasten coming in his mouth, and right now Chasten only wants to do all the things that turn Pete on the most. He’d love to keep fucking Pete’s face like this, keep him breathless and messy and sore, but he can tell Pete’s antsy to be on the receiving end of some attention. Chasten yanks Pete’s head back and his cock leaves Pete’s mouth with a lewd, wet smack. “You’ve done very well so far. Would you please lay down on your back next?” 

Pete’s panting hard. He wipes the saliva off his chin, dragging the back of his hand across his swollen pink lips, and says, “Of course.” 

Chasten watches his husband clamber to his feet and sit on the bed, scooting back to rest in the middle of the comforter. He waits until Pete tilts his chin down to look at him before slowly peeling off his shirt. Pete’s eyes are wide, hungry, his mouth open just a little like he’s unaware of his own staring. Shucking his boxers and pants the rest of the way off, he can feel the burn of Pete’s shameless gaze. “Attentive. Very good.” 

He grabs the lube from the bedside drawer before climbing onto the bed to hover over Pete. “You’re overdressed for the occasion, Mr. Secretary,” he whispers, low and just above Pete’s neck so he can feel the responding shiver. “Let me help.” He slips his fingers under the hem of Pete’s shirt, sliding his hands up Pete’s belly, his chest, letting it bunch up ahead of his wrists. He slides it off Pete’s arms, raised above his head, and tosses it aside.

A bolt of heat ignites low in his stomach when he looks at Pete again. His eyes are blown out and dark, his face rubescent with arousal, and God, does Chasten _want_. Wants to kiss him so softly and innocently that he begs, wants to shower him with praise until he comes on words alone, wants to pound him into the mattress until he’s screaming Chasten’s name. He files those wants away for the upcoming weekend.

Instead, he runs his fingertips down the sides of Pete’s neck, down his taut pectorals and across his hardened nipples, down the firm plane of his abdomen until they stop at the waist of his jeans. He pulls them and Pete’s underwear off, appreciating the way Pete’s cock bounces heavily once it’s freed, savoring his little gasp of relief. “Mr. Secretary, some state DOTs have commented that sign erection might take longer than 48 hours. They wanted the National Tunnel Inspection Standards to be updated. But it appears'' — he palms at Pete's dick, the heated skin velvety over hard flesh — "that you’re already more efficient than that, aren’t you?”

“Typically,” Pete chokes out, “typically, postings occur especially q-quickly when a specific and urgent need is de— _fuck_ —demonstrated for a particular t-tunnel, and that certainly applied— _Goddamn_ —for this erection.” His voice is deep, flusteredly tripping over words as Chasten thumbs the slit. Chasten smiles and drifts the fingers of his other hand over Pete’s balls. Pete whimpers as he quickly lubes up his fingers and presses them against his hole and the sound goes directly to Chasten’s cock.

“You said this particular … tunnel? Has an urgent need?” The groan Pete lets out sounds like it’s both from horniness and mortification at the metaphor. “I suppose we’ll have to inspect it, then.” He slides two fingers in, biting back a moan of his own when Pete grips them tightly. He doesn’t bother pinning Pete’s hips down. Pete jerks upwards into the fist on his cock and rolls his hips forwards to get Chasten’s fingers deeper inside. He’s quiet, save for his increasingly ragged breaths, and Chasten watches the way his body moves. He’s always so beautiful like this. Disheveled hair, flushed skin, eyes squeezed shut, back arching. Moving desperately against Chasten’s hands. 

The rhythm of Pete’s undulations falters when Chasten presses a third finger in and glances across the sensitive gland. Precome is already dripping from the head of Pete’s dick, slick on the shaft as Chasten pumps steadily. “You’re doing so well, Mr. Secretary, so well,” he croons, and scissors his fingers inside Pete. He’s so hard from getting Pete ready. 

Pete moans headily. His hands are shaking when they move to cup Chasten’s face between them. “P-please,” he stutters, “I need you. I’m r-ready.” Even as he says the words, he bucks his hips up. 

“Of course,” Chasten murmurs. He pulls his fingers out of Pete and lets go of his swollen cock to settle his hands on Pete’s hips, still thrusting like he can’t stop them if he wanted to. He presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to one of Pete’s palms. “Would you like to go for a ride, Mr. Secretary?”

The sound of affirmation that Pete makes is so wanton and needy that Chasten almost comes like that. He wants his husband so badly. Rolling onto his back, he grabs Pete and twists, helping Pete straddle him. Pete has his hands on Chasten’s chest, holding himself up obediently as he waits. Quickly lubing himself up, he holds Pete by the waist, guiding him down ever so slowly till he pushes inside. They both breathe in deeply, eyes focused on where their bodies meet, and then suddenly Pete slams himself all the way down and Chasten swears, throwing his head back at the tight heat of Pete’s ass and clutching at his hips. God, he’s so grateful for how quickly Pete’s willing to adjust.

When he manages to look up again, Pete’s face is begging for the answer to a question he can’t seem to ask in between desperate gulps of air. Gripping Pete’s full, firm ass, he whispers, “Yes,” and moans as Pete starts to move above him. He watches Pete’s expression morphing from pleasure into near shock, watches his jaw drop as he turns his gaze down to see Chasten’s cock disappearing inside him again, like he’s surprised at how much of Chasten there is, at how much he can take into himself. His hair is matted to his forehead with sweat, his full lips are turning red from how he’s biting them, his thigh muscles are flexing to get himself bouncing. 

And fuck, does Pete _bounce_ , his ass slapping onto Chasten’s balls, his dick bobbing up and down in the space between them. “Shit, P— Mr. Secretary,” he quickly corrects himself. “You look so good right now, so, so good.” Pete hisses and works his hips faster, rolling them into Chasten’s on each downstroke. “Touch yourself for me, I know you want to.” One of the hands planted on Chasten’s ribcage makes its way down to wrap around himself. He’s barely stroking and the sight turns Chasten on so much — it means Pete’s so close already and he’s trying to last for Chasten, even as he chases after his own pleasure. Chasten tilts his hips up and he knows he’s found Pete’s prostate by the way Pete keens in response, a high-pitched wail that cuts off suddenly as he clenches around Chasten.

Pete comes all over his own hand and belly with a hoarse cry and stills as his body seizes up. Chasten surges upwards to cover Pete’s whimpering mouth with his own, swallowing his moans and threading his hands in Pete’s hair. He’s trying to thrust into Pete, the tightness from his orgasm overwhelming, but it’s not quite enough in this position. He leans his weight forward until Pete falls onto his back, rearranges his legs behind him, and starts fucking Pete again desperately. The little helpless noises falling from Pete’s lips into his are so sexy. The way Pete’s writhing underneath him and still bucking his hips for more is _so_ sexy. The half-mewl, half-whine that he can feel with his mouth when he presses it to Pete’s exposed, burning throat is _so fucking sexy_ that Chasten loses it and spills inside Pete, groaning in the crook of his neck.

Pete doesn’t let him stay there for long. He grabs Chasten’s face with both hands, brings it to his, and kisses him with an urgency that takes Chasten by surprise. They make out like that for a while, hot and heavy despite how tired out they both are from the sex. After Chasten pulls out, Pete gently bites at his bottom lip and lets go, buzzing an aftershock to his softening cock. Dazedly leaning over him, Chasten palms Pete’s still-pink, blush-swept cheeks, feeling tender when Pete nuzzles into the touch, his eyes crinkling with deep satisfaction.

They’re tucked together under the thick blankets later, after they’ve cleaned each other up. Pete’s back is spooned up close against Chasten’s front, both of them naked except for underwear because Pete likes feeling skin against skin and because the intimate warmth settles Chasten, too. “You know,” Chasten mumbles sleepily to Pete’s shoulder, “I’m really going to enjoy calling you Mr. Secretary for the next few years.” Pete ducks his head; Chasten knows he can’t help the little shyness that often comes out of nowhere during pillow talk. Bashfully, Pete kisses the hand wrapped up in his. He doesn’t say anything, and doesn’t need to. Chasten drifts off, proud as he’ll ever be.

**Author's Note:**

> [Source](https://www.federalregister.gov/d/2015-16896/p-195) for state DOT commentary on sign erection, courtesy of the National Tunnel Inspection Standards. There was going to be a pun about loads but I couldn't figure out an artful one. And yes, I gave the NTIS a character tag.


End file.
